


Feel Fine

by Sineala



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Emotion Play, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock finds that he wants to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Fine

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo 2013; the square is "emotion play."
> 
> Set sometime in the aftermath of Star Trek IV.

Spock finds that he wants to be happy.

It is a curious thing, this desire, this longing within him. His first impulse is to attribute -- he would not say "blame," though he knows that McCoy, among others, would call it so -- it to his human blood. Feelings, he has been told, are human. But it is humans who say that; Vulcans, too, have emotions.

He does not remember if he wanted this before. 

The records tell him a story of a life he does not quite remember; the fal-tor-pan, the integration, is still settling, leaving him with a disconcerting number of gaps. He remembers the _Enterprise_. He remembers Jim. McCoy. Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scott. His mother and father. He remembers that these people loved him.

The records say he went to Gol, and nearly devoted himself ultimately to Kolinahr, before turning his back on Vulcan a second time. He knows neither why he went nor what stopped him; the records merely say he elected to reactivate his Starfleet commission. Perhaps this is what he went to purge himself of, to replace the quest for happiness with a perfect, pure, emptiness.

He will not return to Gol. He is here, in the spacedock with the rest of the command crew, waiting for the final builders' inspections of the new _Enterprise_ , the _Enterprise-A_ , to finish. ("Dotting the is and crossing the ts," Mr. Scott had said.) At any rate, he has made his choices. He stood with his friends at the court-martial, and he stands with them still.

And yet-- he wants to be happy. On Vulcan, the computer had asked how he felt. Perhaps someone knew this about him. Perhaps they had known he would want this.

What would a human do in his place? Recreational intoxicants, Spock's mind supplies. Romulan ale. Klingon blood wine. Artificial Deltan pheromones, Hestv _nhwe_. He finds this distasteful.

A Vulcan might meditate, he thinks, as odd and conflicting as the goals are. Then he realizes that perhaps this is what he is trying to do. He is here at the spacedock's observation deck, the view of Terra spread out before him. It is... restful. It is not happiness, but perhaps it is enough.

He is aware of the presence of others before they have entered the room; he can hear them through the bulkheads before the door slides open.

He turns and inclines his head, already knowing whom he will see.

"Captain. Doctor."

The formality is inappropriate, but the captain smiles faintly. "It's still Jim, Spock."

"Jim, then."

"And it's Leonard," McCoy offers, an unexpected gift of friendship, even after all these years.

Spock nods again. "Is my presence required?"

The two of them look at each other for a few seconds, and then McCoy smiles. "Not required. Just requested. If you'd like to join us."

He waits for McCoy to follow it up with, perhaps, a dry observation that liking is an emotion, for him to accuse him of these things that are, in fact, true, but McCoy says nothing.

It is Jim who provides elucidation. "The rest of the officers are having... well... a get-together, on the base rec deck. Uhura's borrowing a harp from someone, and there's tri-D chess; I think we both owe you more than a few games." He smiles. "And Scotty's bringing the drinks, but I didn't think you'd be interested in that."

"I thought you might appreciate seeing them." McCoy taps the side of his head. "But I wouldn't want to speak for you."

If he were the ideal Vulcan, Kolinahr-bound, he would only evaluate this with logic. There is none here. If he were human he would smile. He is not either; he is himself, and he thinks he could be happy. His friends want him to be happy. They are doing this for him. For his feelings.

"Yes," he says, "I will enjoy that."

And he will.


End file.
